


Give and Take

by Jondiplier



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Breeding, Fuck Or Die, Intersex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Monsters, Penis In Vagina Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jondiplier/pseuds/Jondiplier
Summary: "When Geralt offers to return the favor if the Unseen Elder will help, he's taken up on it. The price he has to pay for that help is nothing he could have imagined." - original author wendesdayGeralt fulfills the offer he makes to the Unseen Elder.To take life; you must give.(°♡°)Please read the original fic for this before you read this one if you'd like more context! It was so good I decided to make more! I'll definitely write a part three if it is wanted!:D as always, enjoy from the vampire breeding, mpreg queen!!
Relationships: Dettlaff van der Eretein/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).
  * Inspired by [favor without a price](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538854) by [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday). 



> Be cautious! Rape/Non-con, basically a heat, conflicting morals for Geralt enjoying himself.
> 
> This is one of my darker fics, I have other ones with similar themes but consensual if that would suit some better! Be careful and take care of yourselves!

Geralt can feel his stomach drop at the thought of this being possible. Either they're stuck like this for however long, and with the way it sounds, for forever. 

Or… 

Geralt doesn't want to think about that now, especially as he's laying on the dusty floor, ass aching and torn. 

He curls himself up into a fetal position as Dettlaff paces around the walls, growls and grumbling about " _stupid witcher_ " and " _why would you come here?_ ".

Dettlaff has stopped to stare at Regis more than once, who is still frozen in place. It only seems to rile his anger more.

Geralt doesn't know how much time passes, but a steady, ungodly painful pressure grows in his abdomen. It makes him curl up even further, gritting his teeth in agony as it goes. 

At first he thought it was the monstrous amount of vampire spunk in him. He had been preparing to shit himself right there on the floor since he can't get his legs to work without the pain from his ass. Until it grows from a constipation-like feeling to a nauseating stabbing near his bladder. 

He groans, sweat building up as the pain keeps going and growing. Geralt feels a pair of piercing eyes on him, but he can't even open his eyes to glare back at him. He doesn't really _want_ to look at his rapist, anyway. 

The pain spikes and he feels like he's going to vomit, until it gives in with a wet pop between his legs. He releases a pitiful moan, wondering what the hell he's gotten into, when he hears Dettlaff's snarls and curses grow in frequency. He must be ready again, Geralt swallows thickly. He certainly is not. 

He braces for his rough hands and snapping jaw, but nothing happens besides more pacing. His boots are loud on the floor, and it's grating to his overstimulated ears.

Geralt lets out a breath and shifts, finally feeling well enough to investigate what is going on down there. He sits up on his left forearm with a curse and checks the sight between his legs. 

There's the metallic scent of blood, which is to be expected, and the scent of Dettlaff's… mess. 

He also scents a moisture that hasn't been there before, and smells inexplicably like a vulva. 

Geralt panics. Dettlaff prowls. 

He sits up further, grabbing his limp cock and balls and pulling them away from his pelvis as best as he can. For a minute he thinks he's going to pass out, lightheaded. Is he hallucinating? Has he lost too much blood?

Geralt sees, and feels, a mound that a woman would have, where his premium should be. It's hard to see it at this angle, but Dettlaff sees it perfectly. Definitely not hallucinating, he gulps.

"Look at what you've done." His voice is dark and heavy with his feral lust. Geralt's breath hitches as fear constricts his throat. 

Geralt scoots away, further and further as Dettlaff takes large steps closer to him.

He doesn't even make it to the invisible wall before his ankle is grabbed by a large hand. He grunts as he kicks, weakened by his blood loss and pain. 

Geralt is no match, and doesn't stand a chance as he's dragged over the dusty ground by his leg. He snarls at Dettlaff, desperate to dissuade him. 

His new part throbs at the struggle, and he feels disgusted with himself. 

Time seems to slow as Dettlaff's less than human face stares at him, big nostrils flaring, scenting him. His eyes hold an energy Geralt can't describe, and he casts his gaze away. 

Geralt's eyes land on that monstrous thing between the vampire's legs, and truly regrets coming here, the regret settling heavily in his stomach. 

This is worse than he could ever imagine. No witcher training could've ever prepared him for this.

He doesn't know if he even wishes Regis were here, frozen or not, to witness this humiliating and terrifying experience.

Maybe he would've been able to have done something for Dettlaff, to get him off and away from him. It's impractical, and as his legs are hoisted up into the air, Geralt realizes that he's doomed. 

Geralt huffs out a breath as his weight is put on his chest. His legs are being held up by large, clawed hands. Dettlaff's cock is already dripping, his coat still on and framing it, the contrast between the flushing, pale skin sharp. 

To his dismay, he feels warmth growing pleasantly in his lower abdomen. 

Dettlaff's cock is quick to slide into him, and it's much less painful than before. He's at least thankful for that. The vampire tosses his head back, and Geralt belly ignites with an intense heat as he's filled to the brim. 

His hands scramble for purchase on the ground, mouth parting in a gasp as Dettlaff's hard pelvis brushes against something below his balls. The movement sends pleasure shooting up his spine, unlike anything he's felt before.

This is… tolerable. 

The beast seems to take notice, eying Geralt's face with his beady eyes and ruts against him again. Geralt chokes on a noise, fisting his hands on the ground as his new cunt clenches blissfully.

They lock eyes for a moment, Geralt feeling riled up at the monstrous expression that greets him, and closes his eyes to block out that face. 

"You're feeling it too." Dettlaff breathes, and Geralt notices that it's strained and coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 

When Geralt doesn't reply, Dettlaff mushes their hips together again, and Geralt's eyes spring open in a broken moan.

"Tell me, Witcher, are you satisfied with your request?" Dettlaff asks, swirling his hips so that his cock rubs against his inner walls. 

It knocks the breath out of Geralt. Sex has never felt so good, and he wants to be angry with himself for letting it get this far. He doesn't know if he should pity himself for this, either, but he can't dwell on it at the moment when ripping hot heat keeps dancing in his belly. 

Dettlaff pulses inside of him.

"You wish to kill me, and the price for a vampire's life is another one made." He murmurs, and Geralt glares at him the best he can, because what else can he do? Sit back and take it? 

"Did Regis not tell you this?" His brows are furrowed and his lips are quirking into a frown. It's genuine.

Geralt wants to punch that look off his face. 

Dettlaff slides out and pushes his hips back in torturously quick, and Geralt huffs out a moan as his excitement grows in his pussy.

"You plan to kill me while you carry _my_ children. _My pack._ " Each sentence is met with powerful thrusts, and Geralt squirms and withers. "And then what? Raise them on your own?" He laughs, and it's cruel. 

Geralt hates how those words make him clench hungrily around him, as if that's exactly what his cunt wants.

Dettlaff leans over him, settling his legs over his waist carefully before cupping Geralt's cheek, faces inches apart.

"It will be a shame to not be there to watch you swell with my children." He mutters deeply before pumping his hips and starting his pace.

Geralt is huffing and groaning as his body bounces with his thrusts, eyes closed tightly to avoid looking at Dettlaff. He can't, not while he's being defiled and feeling so _good_ about it. Fuck, he wishes this was a different circumstance. That maybe he could've known Dettlaff and understand what Regis sees in him.

He wishes he felt sick about that idea. 

The vampire's breath fans over his face and he seems almost as breathless. Geralt reaches out to grab his strong arms that are planted by his head, holding himself up above Geralt with ease. He needs to be grounded, pitiful sounds leaving him and embarrassing him. 

Dettlaff's right hand moves out of his grasp before intertwining their fingers, pressing his hand onto the ground again. 

"It was never my intent to hurt you, Geralt." Dettlaff growls, but there's no scorn behind it. His breath is hot against Geralt's neck, sending goosebumps up his back. "I wish you never summoned me here." His voice is rough and genuine. His breathing picks up, and soon he's snarling.

Warmth floods him as Dettlaff's cock swells, a bit less than last time, but enough to ache. Geralt moans weakly as he's pumped full of cum, and this time it has somewhere to go.

His mind is cloudy, floating on the verge of orgasm, and Dettlaff keeps rutting in short bursts of his hips with groans and gasps. 

Geralt tetters over the edge as Dettlaff slaps their hips together, stimulating that spot that almost becomes white hot as he cums.

It's overwhelming, making his thighs quiver and his pussy convulse around the hard cock still spilling inside of him. 

Geralt collapses back against the ground, panting heavily as Dettlaff pulls out. The mess that follows drips down to his leaking ass, and then onto the floor. Geralt lays there, stomach jerking with the aftershocks as a large, black coat covers him from his neck to his toes.

"I will see you soon, Geralt. I am sure of it." Dettlaff says and walks out past where the invisible barrier should've stopped him.

_It should've stopped him._

Within minutes he hears a gasp from Regis as he gains control over his body again, and then another before his friend is on his knees beside him. 

"Geralt-"

"Not now, Regis." Geralt croaks, sitting up on his elbows and giving his friend a look that told him to shut up. 

Regis helps him up and assists him in putting on the jacket before they leave in a heavy silence. 

He's burdened with the images ingrained in his mind and Dettlaff's words. He nor Regis talk the whole way back. 


End file.
